Teddy's Gift
by SiriusRadcliffe
Summary: The war may be over, but the true fight is just beginning. Two hearts, still searching for the truth, are brought together by the most unexpected person. And in the end, destiny overtakes them. From the imaginations of Miss Radcliffe and SiriusBlack1113 c
1. Night

A/N: Welcome chapter one of Teddy's Gift. This story is written by the co-author team of SiriusBlack1113 and Miss Radcliffe A.K.A. SiriusRadcliffe. We hope you enjoy it! Please review and let us know what you think!

SiriusBlack1113 and Miss Radcliffe

His feet crumpled the trash that littered the street, his worn trainers the only spot of color on the dark road.

Harry was illuminated for a moment as he passed under an iron streetlight. He slouched, his hands in his jean pockets, the black jacket pulled down in front. He stared at the ground, walking faster.

His feet took him along the same route he always walked. The last time he checked it was about three in the morning.

Living at Grimmauld Place with Ron and Hermione was more than he had ever dared to dream- no- dared to think of. Of course, there had been that time when they were looking for the Horcruxes, but that hadn't been living so much as hiding.

He didn't like the night. Night brought sleep and sleep brought the nightmares. Dreams of Fred's blank stare, of Remus and Tonks lying silently side-by-side. Dreams of Dobby with a knife sticking out of his chest; of Oliver Wood carrying the dead body of Colin Creevy. The visions would flicker in front of his eyes, just out of reach, until they would break, and he would be standing alone, all alone in a sea of black.

"All my fault," he muttered, turning a corner and passing the slumped drunk that inhabited it.

It was all his fault. All his fault that so many lives had been lost. His fault that George now sat day by day in his flat, staring at the wall, waiting for something that would never come. His fault. Always his fault.

The inexplicable loneliness was almost as bad as the guilt. True, he was living with his two best friends, but there was something about catching them gazing at each other with more love in their eyes than he could ever possess or the simple silences that turned so awkward that he would grunt and leave the room. It was lonely knowing that while Hermione had her own room, he wasn't sure if she used it. It was worse realizing that neither of them truly knew their own actions.

He reached his destination, catching his foot on the edge of the lawn. He made his way through the grass, stopping to sit in usual spot on the bench. He stared across at the rust metal swing as it squeaked when the wind blew gently across it.

It caressed his face softly. Harry balanced his elbows on his knees, focusing on a spot on the ground; thinking of nothing else; clearing his mind. He lost himself in the tiny discolored spot of cement, barely aware of the figure sitting on the second bench next to him, the one that was there every night.

He had memorized the entire neighborhood eventually. His night wanderings had taken him everywhere. But the park was his favorite spot. There was something delicately childlike, purely innocent about it. It was something Voldemort had never touched; something no Death Eater (at least Harry was ninety nine percent sure) had ever step foot on.

He balled his hands into fists, squeezing his eyes shut and watched the sparks explode on the back of his eyelids. He dug his fingernails into his skin, relishing the sharp skin. Anything, _anything_ to take his mind off the real pain. Anything to fill the great big gap he had inside.

At first, he had thought his heart was too big, thought it was too fill; and that's why he had been had having that weird feeling in his chest; that weird cross between aching and stretching. He had tried to ignore it, tried to empty himself of it, but after days and days of the same bottomless pull, he had been forced to see the truth.

It wasn't that his heart was too full; it was that there was nothing there at all. Just this big gaping hole of nothing. Of raw pain that tore at the edges of him and made him want to lie still for hours. Not sleep; no he never wanted to sleep; just lie there and let the pain wash over him in waves. Just lie there and scream soundlessly as he was eaten away.

He didn't do anything. He knew he should be celebrating with the rest of the world, but he didn't. He got up, he ate, and he walked into the living room and stared out the window. He ate, he walked outside; he came back in and counted the cracks in Sirius' (now his) bedroom ceiling. He sat through another lonely supper with Ron and Hermione, then he would excuse himself, leaving them behind, ignoring the looks he felt stabbing into his back. He would wait in his room until he heard Ron and Hermione climb the stairs and then he would slip past Kreacher and outside, where he would wander aimlessly for hours on end. That was the entire sum of his existence.

Today was the worst. Today was his birthday; he was eighteen, officially legal in both worlds. Today he had to shrug off the reinvigorated attempts of Ron and Hermione to get him to do something. He had to ignore the letters from "sympathetic" witches and wizards around the world. But worst of all, he had to decline the invitations to the Burrow. Because- because they would be there.

He was afraid. Afraid of this gaping hole in him that was more like an infection. Afraid he would spread it to the rest of them. He was scared to see the looks on their faces, to know exactly the number that was missing from them. He was scared to see her.

He dug his nails in harder. He had promised, he had _sworn_ not to think about her. It wasn't fair to her. True, she probably hurt now, but in the end, it would all be for the better.

He had always planned on going back to her during the war. She had been his reason to keep fighting, his reason for everything. But now that there wasn't a constant threat of death handing over his head and everyone he loved, he felt he could see clearer.

He didn't need Ginny.

The nails began piercing his skin. His feelings for her during the war were merely a result of the desperation war creates. And now that the war was over, so were his feelings for her.

He wondered if the same would have held true for Remus and Tonks. They had eloped in a spur of the moment decision. Of course, with Teddy, they'd probably be closer than ever. Teddy would have brought them together. Teddy, his godson.

For the first time, the thought of their deaths didn't bring around sharp pains of pangs and guilt. He'd been trying to avoid meeting him ever since Ron and Hermione suggested it weeks ago. At last he had been forced to concede and tomorrow, he was going to Andromeda's home to see his godson.

The sun was reflecting off of the tops of the trees, turning their summer green a shining yellow. It was time to get back to Grimmauld place, before Hermione got up to sneak back to her room. Harry stood up and turned around resolutely to begin the trudge back to the house. He hesitated by the swings, examining his hands.

His hands bore the marks of small cuts in a semicircle. The nails had done their job. He would have to stop on the way back and buy Muggle Band-Aids from the twenty-four hour drug store. He lacked the necessary skills to make a somewhat competent healer, and he didn't want to see Hermione's crushing look of concern. He would have to make up an excuse tomorrow, or wear the robes that fell over his hands. He turned in the opposite direction now, to take the long way back that would take him past the drug store.

"See you tomorrow," said the figure on the bench.

Harry stopped. "Yeah," he said, starting forward again. "See you tomorrow."


	2. Sunrise

It's finally here!!! It's SiriusBlack1113's fault for not getting it in as fast as she was supposed to, but you can't really blame her because the second half, in my opinion, rocks. She's sitting ten feet away from me and doesn't feel like adding anything to this author's note but she's sure to add a good one at the end. Enjoy!

Miss Radcliffe

Chapter 2: Sunrise

Harry closed the front door of Grimmauld Place and stepped inside. When he, Ron, and Hermione moved in two months ago, they had done their best to try and brighten the place up a bit. Hermione was able to add windows in the dingy hallway that showed picturesque landscapes and let the sun shine in like those in the Ministry of Magic. The pictures of Black ancestors cluttering the wall had been taken down, much to the displeasure of their occupants. The tarnished chandeliers and doorknobs were replaced by cheery hanging lights and polished, round doorknobs. After painstaking efforts to remove Sirius' mother's portrait from the wall, they had almost given up when Ron's wand backfired and she fell, silently to the floor. Hermione was still trying to figure out exactly what had caused this. Finally, Harry had personally blasted Bellatrix's name off of the tapestry in the drawing room. He then restored the names "Sirius" and "Andromeda" and added "Theodore Tonks," "Nymphadora," "Remus Lupin," and "Teddy."

But even in this merrier atmosphere, Harry still felt trapped in his own house. He never sympathized with Sirius more than he had those last few months. He sighed and proceeded downstairs into the kitchen to start breakfast. No more than ten minutes later, he heard the quiet banter of his friends echoing down the stairs. Ron and Hermione entered the room, Ron in t-shirt and blue striped pajama pants (that were finally long enough) and Hermione in a blue nightdress.

"Morning, Harry," Ron yawned as he took a seat at the table. "Whatcha got for breakfast?"

"Eggs and toast," replied Harry. As he was always the earliest to "wake up", Harry had become the resident breakfast-maker. He separated the eggs onto three plates and put a piece of buttered toast on each of them.

"Had a rough night, Harry?" Hermione asked as he handed her a plate. "You look like you haven't slept at all." Harry avoided her gaze.

"I'm fine," he lied. "I just turned in late."

"Well I hope you're not to tired to go to Andromeda's today," said Hermione and Harry choked on his toast. Hermione watched him with concern as Ron slapped him hard on the back without even pausing in devouring his eggs.

"Yeah," Harry panted once he could breathe again. "Yeah, I'm still going."

And he meant it, sort of. It was just, he happened to remember a few things he had been putting off lately that had to be done. He spent a few hours cleaning up Sirius' room. He still called it that. It was a bit like wading through a dumpster. The clothes Hermione hadn't scavenged to throw in the laundry were strewn about the room. He had just given up looking for his the pair to his favorite socks (not matching of course, they were an old gift from Dobby) when he found it in between the bed and the wall. The walls of the room looked exactly the same as they had when Sirius lived there. Harry had no desire for anything else. The same pictures of Muggle motorcycles were on the wall, along the girls in bikinis (he felt a strange twinge of guilt when he looked at those, he wasn't really sure why). Sometimes he would spend hours just staring at the picture of the Marauders on the wall. In fact, the only change was that Lily's letter had been put next to it.

He did whatever he could to stall until three. He couldn't recall exactly when Andromeda said Teddy's nap was, but subconsciously almost, he was planning on arriving just in the middle of it, so he could be sent away, back to Grimmauld place, and avoid the memory for just another day. At last though, the moment came when Hermione's sharp looks grew to be too much, and with a quick turn Harry Disapparated.

He landed just outside the house. Normally, he would have apparated a little farther away and walked, but he didn't want to look at the outside of the house longer than he had to. The last time he had been to this house was- well, it wasn't a pleasant time.

He knocked once, quietly. He was shifting from foot to foot on the step in front of the door, surveying the slightly withered bushes and the faded grass, when, to his disappointment, the door swung open. Andromeda stood there, looking tired, her hair streaked with gray. Harry couldn't help but notice the pale lavender circles under her eyes. But the look in her eyes was the worst. It was the same thing he saw when he had still looked in mirrors: a shield of defiance, set in front of a background of despair. Her lips curled upward at the sight of him.

"Harry," she said, her voice as tired as she looked. "You have perfect timing. He just woke up."

Harry followed her into the house, kicking himself mentally. She moved slowly and bent, as if carrying something heavy. The air in the house itself seemed compressing, and Harry was aware of the fact that it was suddenly harder to breathe. He walked into Teddy's room after Andromeda.

The air in this room was considerably lighter. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting friendly shadows on the pale blue walls. Andromeda stood up straighter, and she appeared was rejuvenated. A small crib was set on one side of the room, white. Miniature models of stars were floating above it.

Harry stared at the child clutching the bars of the crib. Instantly, he couldn't remember his hesitations in coming. The child had light brown hair; he was wearing a small yellow baby outfit. He rubbed eyes slightly, and when his hand came away, Harry saw his deep chocolate eyes.

Harry could see Lupin, could see Tonks so clearly in his face. He felt a strange pull in his stomach. Andromeda smiled at him again, this time illuminating her whole face. "I'll leave you two alone," she whispered, slipping through the door.

Harry barely understood her. He moved closer to the crib, stretching a hand out. The figure in the crib looked at him questioningly. Harry placed a hand on the bar next to the chubby one of the baby. "Hi," he said slowly. "Hi Teddy, I'm Harry. I'm- I'm your godfather."

The baby looked up at him for a minute, tilting his head. A smile spread across his lips and he giggled. His hair turned a shocking pink. A sharp pain flashed through Harry's chest. "Oh, you are definitely Tonks's son," he whispered through the bars.

Teddy sat there grinning at Harry. He lifted a chubby hand off the bar and reached it towards Harry. Harry felt as if he were petrified. He watched, almost is some sort of ridiculous horror, as the fingers came closer and closer, until they grazed his hand.

Harry gasped. A sharp shock of pain passed through his body at the touch. The next thing he knew he was across the room, panting for breath and rubbing his hand. But the pain was gone just as easily as it had come.

He examined his hand. Nothing, just the small scabs in a semicircle on his palm. The pain was completely in his head. It was the same pain he felt whenever he was alone, just sharper.

i But /i , he thought as he gazed the child who had fallen back in the crib, his hair now black and his eyes a deep endless blue. i It hurts less now /i , he realized. Usually the aftershock of the pain was the worst, just waves and waves of it. But now, it was ebbing away. It was still there; nothing but time and something else could truly make it go away. But it was manageable.

In the time it had taken him to come to that opinion, Teddy's face had become scrunched and contorted. The small nose wrinkled as if in distaste; his forehead creased. His tiny fists swung in the air as his face turned a bright red. His mouth twisted and he let out a long howl.

Harry could only stare at the bawling boy. He had no idea what to do. He stood, rooted to the spot as Teddy's cries grew louder and higher. The door swung open, casting a shadow across the floor and frightening the small stars into a frenzy.

Andromeda burst into the room. She took one look at the frozen Harry and hurried over to the crib. She picked up Teddy, cradling him in her arms.

"It's okay," she whispered, soothing him with a gentle swaying.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, a note of panic in his voice, which had come out louder than he had wanted and somewhat cracked.

"It's okay," she said to him, in the same voice she had spoken with to Teddy. She never took her eyes off the child in her arms.

Harry watched her silently for a moment. Teddy's eyes fluttered, his fists loosened. He had long since grown silent. His wide eyes grew into the shape of saucers as he settled into the shape of Andromeda's arm, his head leaning against her. But he never closed his eyes. He watched everything. Harry had the strangest fear that Teddy could hear everything, or at least understand the things that weren't said aloud.

"Can you do this?' he said suddenly. Andromeda looked up at him for the first time. Her eyes were weary again. Her expression, if he hadn't known better, was almost like a mixture of pity and understanding. As if there was a connection they shared, as if they had something in common. But there wasn't. She had done nothing wrong. And she was the one who lost everything.

"Do what?" she asked quietly, her eyes returning to Teddy, who was now clutching the front of her shirt.

"This." Harry gestured about the room. "How can you do this? How can you do this alone? Are i you /i okay? Taking care of him by yourself?"

Andromeda smiled resignedly. "Harry," she said with a sigh. "I couldn't do it without him. He's all I have left. He's everything I ever had."

Harry felt his chest swell as he stared at her. She pressed her nose to Teddy's. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked, her nose still on Teddy's, who was giggling now.

Harry stuttered. "I- I- I can't. I don't know how."

Andromeda turned to him. "It's easy." She held Teddy out to the boy in front of her. "Just let happen. You'll find it's easier than anything you've ever done."

Harry took the boy in his two hands, holding him away from his body awkwardly.

Andromeda smiled lightly. "Take your hand and put on under his head. Yes, that's it," she said as Harry followed her instructions. His arm naturally curled so that he was supporting the tiny baby under its head and bottom. He glanced down at the life in his arms.

He suddenly felt more nervous, more frightened then ever before. This was a completely different fear than facing Voldemort. It was much deeper and it scared him more.

"Take him back," he said sharply, thrusting the baby back into Andromeda's arms. "Take him back."

"Harry," she stepped towards him.

"No," he said, inching towards the door. "I- I have to go. I- I can't-" He threw himself through the door. He made his way to the door that led outside.

Andromeda followed him, Teddy in his arms. But the closer the baby came, the faster Harry moved. He made his way outside, throwing himself onto the step. He turned, saw Andromeda, saw her mouth about to open, saw the same worried face he saw on Hermione everyday, and with a crack, Disapparated.

He fell forward on the grass in his park. No one was there. No one was ever at a rusted, dangerous place like that. He buried his face in the green, breathing in the dirt and clover. He couldn't control the tears that were running down his face and he couldn't stop them either. He lay there for a while; hiccupping, until the water dried and his body stopped shaking. He turned over, his face to the sky and watched the sky pass him by.

He was vaguely aware of the sky turning colors, of the wind growing colder. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, the figure that sat on the bench lay down his newspaper for the night. He heard the footsteps of the others that slept there pass his head; they never stayed in that part of the park.

He stayed like that for a long time; until the sky turned a strange purple black and the stars that had blinded him at first began to grow dim and boring. Then he stood up and brushed himself off.

"Good," said the man with his head in the Daily News. "You're going back early tonight. Go to sleep. You don't need to be out here like the rest of us."

Harry snorted as he made his way to a good spot to Disapparate from. i Sleep /i , he thought. i Yeah, right. /i The second he slipped onto his bed the pain would start shooting through his nerves. And visions would flash on the back of his eyelids.

The man on the bench smiled at the loud crack. He was right, and he knew it. He was always right.

And so Harry was rather surprised to find that when he got home and stumbled his way up the stairs, past Ron's now occupied room, and into his bed, that the pain was less this time. That it hurt just a little differently, not in waves put in sharp little stabs that would throb for a while awkwardly in that empty space in his chest and through his body. He was surprised that it went away just a little sooner. That it came in brief periods and in a while, it was almost gone completely; hidden beneath the surface. And he was wrong about one more thing.

That night, the nightmares didn't come.

A/N: So what did you think? Just don't get too involved in certain aspects of the story as we're not even sure how it'll turn out… We write as we go along. Hope you enjoyed it. PLEASE REVIEW!

SiriusBlack1113 <3 


	3. Daylight Shadows

Chapter 3: Daylight Shadows

Ginny Weasley did not cry,

At least, that's what she told herself everyday. And she hadn't cried not one since the breakdown she had during the Final Battle. She had sat, albeit somewhat stony faced, through Lupin, Tonks, and Fred's funeral without a single drop of water running from her eyes. She had held her sobbing mother and patted her robotically on the back and she had watched her green eyed, black haired boy break his promise and walk away without a single tear.

And she wouldn't cry let herself cry now, she thought determinedly, grinding her teeth into her bottom lip. Her hand flew up fro her body and knocked on the smooth wooden door with the askew F and G on its front.

No one answered. She almost sighed in relief before catching herself. She couldn't understand why she felt the irresistible need to cry every time she saw her problem. It was worst to see him than to think of Fred. But he seemed okay, like he could move on. So what was wrong with her?

"George?" she called out softly. Her hand reached for the knob. She opened the door a crack. "George?" she called again. She pushed the door open all the way.

There he was, lying in the middle of his bed, his chest rising and falling in the deep breaths of sleep. The untouched tray of food she had brought last night lay next to him on the bed. The room itself was in disarray. Papers, clothes, and who knows what were strewn about the room. Clearly, he had been experimenting.

George's arms where outstretched to the point where his fingers fell in little arcs over the side of the bed. His red hair fell back in an odd covering, and his face was stubbled with days of missed shaves. His eyes were closed. In fact, he showed no reaction to Ginny's entrance.

"George?" Ginny said again, her face upturned in a small smile. "I brought you lunch. I know you were working on stuff last night, but you have to eat something."

She set the tray next to the uneaten one and took out for her wand. She gave a little wave and some of the mess cleared itself. The clothes flew lamely into a pile and one or two of the papers disappeared She had gotten better though. The first time she had attempted it, she had created and even bigger mess with a minor explosion. George had been working and hadn't even blinked.

It had become a sort of routine for them. Ginny would come in every morning while George was still asleep and put out his breakfast. Then later she would bring is lunch and clean up some of the mess. She would sit awkwardly for a few moments and watch him work from a few minutes, before making some lame excuse to leave.

He had been working on something nonstop for the few weeks secretly; He had holed himself up in his room for hours upon hours, occasional bangs and explosions issuing from it. Mrs. Weasley let him. In a way, it was how he dealt with Fred. He was dealing with it much better than her. Ginny would lie awake for hours at night listening to her mother cry until her father came home and the cries broke. Ginny was not supposed to hear.

There was blissful silence after that, and it would all begin again.

The Burrow would have fallen apart long ago if it hadn't been for Ginny. Her father was at the Ministry for all hours of the day and her mother moved mechanically and awkwardly through the motions of her day. Her mum and dad had somehow aged decades overnight and even the ghoul waved more than usual. True, her mother did what needed to be done, but it lacked any life in it. Still, the day was better than any second of the night.

Ginny gave another small wave of her wand, then sighed hen the pants on the top of the pile did nothing but flick miserable She shrugged and sat on the edge of the bed next to George's still form.

"George, come one. It's time to wake up. It's already twelve." Normally, Mrs. Weasley would never even think of letting a child of heir's sleep so late, but George was an exception even in that.

" i George /i ," she said again, shaking him slightly. " i Come on /i ." George groaned and turned to his side.

"George! Look, I already did all of my chores, I just have to get you up. Mum may let you do whatever you want, but I need you to degnome the garden so I can go."

George blinked and groaned. "Go, where?" he murmured sleepily.

"It's Tuesday," she said. George pushed himself up and he turned towards her.

"You're going to see Teddy today."

Ginny nodded.

George got up from the bed and began searching through a pile next to it. "Tell him hi from me," he said to the jeans on the floor, "and give him this."

He held out his hand to Ginny, a small rectangular box was in it. She suddenly understood what George had been doing all the time he was locked up in his room.

Ginny eyed the box suspiciously. "I'm not going to give him something that will blow up George," she said warily.

"It won't blow up," he replied with a grin. A shadow of an old mischievous glint was in his eyes.

He waved his hand over the box and the sides of the rectangle fell away. A miniature live giraffe stood in his hand, pawing the ground nervously. It was identical to the real animal, only much smaller.

"Oh George," Ginny breathed. "Wow."

George grinned. "Fre- Fred and I were working on this for months. I finished this one and I've almost got the tiger done"

Ginny watched in amazement as George waved his hand again and the box flew back together. She threw herself at him and hugged him around the waist. George almost dropped the box. "What?" he yelped.

"You're amazing," Ginny said into his shirt, "Amazing."

George smiled and ruffled her hair. "I know," he said.

Ginny pulled back and scowled at him. "You don't have to agree so easily."

George just smiled and pushed her towards the door, putting the box into her hand. "Alright, Alright," he said, "I got to change."

Ginny scowled one more time for good measure, then hugged George quickly again. By the time he reacted, she was already flying down the stairs.

A few seconds later, Ginny rolled through emerald flames and onto a soft, blue hearthrug with a grace that indicated a lifetime of practice. She brushed the sparkling green remnants of Floo Powder from her shoulders and jeans just as the clock behind her chimed one 'o clock.

"Ginny? Dear, is that you?" called a voice from the bowels of the right-hand hallway. Ginny followed the voice and found Andromeda leaning against the door at the end of the hallway, her hand on the knob.

"He's been fussy all day," whispered Andromeda as she greeted Ginny with a one-armed hug. "But I was about to wake him up. He won't sleep through the night if I don't." Ginny nodded and Andromeda creaked the door open. Ginny's eyes fell on the tiny figure whose spiky, bright blue hair suggested he'd been awake long before they had entered the room. He was unquestionably alert: watching Ginny with keen, brown eyes. He cooed with anticipation as she approached him and proceeded to giggle when she scooped him out of him wooden crib.

"I'm going to pop into Diagon alley and pick up some supplies," announced Andromeda as she watched Ginny try to contain her squirming grandson. In a sudden effort to imitate Ginny's abundant, Weasley-red hair, Teddy's eyes pinched shut and his blue spiky hair grew to his shoulders and turned a severe violet.

"No problem," Ginny laughed, she ran her fingers through Teddy's hair amusedly.

"Right then," Andromeda smiled wearily and moved into the sitting room to collect her cloak and Ginny followed with Teddy. "Extra bottles are kept-,"

"In the icebox, I know," replied Ginny.

"And I suppose you remember how much to heat the bottle," Andromeda fastened her cloak and placed a pointed lavender hat on top of her graying hair.

"Of course," said Ginny, recounting her first visit with Teddy and Andromeda in June when Andromeda had shown her the Muggle method of checking the formula's temperature by squirting some on your own wrist after she had tried testing it by touching the burner and, as a result, introducing Teddy to his first swear word.

"Well I'm off then," Andromeda kissed her grandson and grinned roguishly, reminding Ginny of a bubbly, clumsy and (usually) pink-haired witch who should be holding the child in Ginny's arms.

The loud crack from Andromeda's Disapparation roused Ginny from her thoughts and back to a restless Teddy.

"I have something for you," she removed George's present from her pocket and presented it to him. Teddy watched with wonder as the box opened and the miniature giraffe was revealed. He promptly snatched the toy and stuck its elongated neck in his mouth, drenching it with drool.

"That's from George," Ginny smiled. "He'll be glad to know you like it." Teddy pulled the giraffe out of his mouth and granted her with a toothless smile. Out of nowhere he started poking Ginny in the face, counting each freckle.

"Ow! Hungry, are we?" Ginny extracted her hair from Teddy's strong grip and walked him into the kitchen.

After placing him in a yellow high chair, she took a bottle labeled "Trolls' Turnip Tastees I From Our Home Grown Gnome Free Gardens /i " and heated its milky white contents on the stove. A loud exclamation from the other side of the room brought hr attention back to Teddy. What she was a baby Teddy's size with short, flaming red hair and blue eyes glinting with a proud sense of accomplishment. For all she knew, Teddy could have been her baby brother. And in a way, he was. As Ginny checked the temperature of the formula on her wrist, she recalled the time a few weeks ago when Ron and Hermione had visited Teddy with her and how Ron had eaten the cookies Andromeda made with such relish that Teddy imitated him and made a huge mess of his applesauce.

"So, now when you think of food, you turn into Ron," Ginny refilled the bottle with the heated formula and handed it to Teddy. He tipped the bottle back and suckled on it with a vigorous ferocity. Ginny chuckled as he soon grew tired of the habit and slowed his pace. Unable to concentrate on both his bottle and his altered appearance at the same time, Teddy's hair retracted to a natural, wispy brown and his eyes darkened to brown.

"Finally, someone has recognized Ron for what he truly is," grinned Ginny. Teddy blinked at her and drained the bottle, dropping it onto his highchair with a resounding burp.

"Good one," Ginny smirked and she removed the bottle from Teddy's reach. When she went to turn off the stove, however, her hand slipped onto the coiled burner.

"Ow – ow – ow!" she yelped in pain, causing Teddy to whimper as she rushed over to the sink to run her hand under cold water. She sighed in relief as it subdued the pain to a slight and manageable throb.

"See, its just a little burn," she returned to Teddy while examining her hand. An angry red blister had formed in the shape of a semi-circle to match the stove's dangerous coils.

Teddy grabbed her fingers and pulled her hand closer to his throne-like chair. He seemed to observe Ginny's burn and at once, his face wrinkled as his appearance began to change. Only, when he opened his eyes, the only difference was that his irises had turned a glowing, emerald green.

Ginny gasped in surprise. She i knew /i those eyes. They had filled her thoughts and dreams without avail for the past two months, since Voldemort's demise and the series of funerals that followed. But how could Teddy know what Harry's eyes looked like? To her knowledge, he had never met his godfather. In addition, what brought on this sudden will to transform? When Teddy changed his appearance earlier to look like Ron, it was due to the connotation of Ron's tendency to pig out. What had happened to make Teddy change his eyes to look like Harry's?

"Ouch!"

Teddy tried again to poke Ginny's raw burn but she pulled her hand away in time to avoid him. Before Ginny could scoff, a loud 'pop' filled the room.

"Hello? I'm back!" Andromeda's voice preceded her as she walked into the kitchen laden with bags. Ginny stood to relieve her of several purchases, including owl treats, salamander eyes, and a book titled u Experimental Magical Breeding: The Reasons, Results, and Why it Has Been Outlawed. /u 

"Everything go alright?" asked Andromeda.

"It was fine, really. He just finished a bottle," Ginny replied. "Andromeda, has anyone else been by to visit Teddy besides me?" Andromeda's forehead creased in thought as she said,

"Hagrid had been by a few times and brought homemade baby food. I threw that out, of course. And the Minister came a few days after the –well the battle to give his condolences and see Teddy. Kingsley worked with 'Dora, you know."

Andromeda's eyes began to water and she crossed the room to lift Teddy into her protective arms. "There was one other visitor, but I doubt he'll be coming back anytime soon."

"Who?" Ginny questioned, although she already anticipated the answer.

"Well, yesterday Harry stopped by, but not for very long. He was so uncomfortable that he practically dropped Teddy and flew out the door after five minutes. He didn't look good; poor lad was very drawn and looked like he could use a decent night's sleep." It was exactly what Ginny had been waiting to hear.

"Andromeda, right before you got back, Teddy made his eyes look like Harry's. Look!" Andromeda adjusted Teddy on her shoulder to face her.

"Aren't Harry's eyes green, dear?" Andromeda replied. Ginny peered around her to get a better view of Teddy and was shocked to find that his eyes had returned to a deep brown.

"But they were green before!" Ginny explained.

"It couldn't have been. I doubt he was with Harry long enough to even see his eyes properly. Though they are striking," Andromeda said thoughtfully. "Maybe you're just a bit tired from handling him for me. Why don't you go on home."

Ginny was put out by her sudden request for her to go and more so, embarrassed because Teddy had proven her wrong. Nevertheless, she kissed Teddy softly on the head and bid Andromeda farewell. That night, Ginny lay awake, consumed with thoughts of a deep green nature, in the sense that she could read every emotion they possessed.


End file.
